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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527093">Sente (Play, and Respond)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesiumlight/pseuds/caesiumlight'>caesiumlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:02:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesiumlight/pseuds/caesiumlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t you have basketball practice, or something,” Mark finally says, after Yukhei shows up for a whole month straight. He’s not being rude, not really.</p><p>“Why,” Yukhei gasps, clutching at his chest, “I’m hurt.” He doesn’t look offended at all. “It’s almost as if you don’t want me here. Or something.”</p><p>(Or Mark plays <i>Go</i>. Yukhei plays basketball. This will likely backfire.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>196</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sente (Play, and Respond)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark’s never been fond of Club Day. By all accounts, it’s a waste of time: those who want to join their team would have sought them out by now, and those who know nothing of <i>Go</i> would hardly be swayed by a few mismatched boards, their patterns indecipherable to laymen. </p><p>“You’re a snob,” Donghyuk concludes blandly, to the silent agreement of all their teammates. </p><p>“Try not to scare potential newbies off,” Sicheng pleads. Mark rolls his eyes, already certain of this year’s turnout—read: none, or more accurately, one or two people who will surely drop out before the end of the month—but forces himself to acquiesce. He doesn’t have the heart to crush their Vice-Captain’s hopes. </p><p>“I’ll play nice,” he promises, before making wavy hand motions at the rest of them. “Now shoo.” His friends actually enjoy Club Day, as inane as that sounds. No sense in sequestering all of them here. </p><p>There’s a spark of excitement as they peel away, eager chatter about how the bowling club put together lanes with plastic bottles for fun, and how the AV club went all out with the creation of a haunted house in their classroom. Compared to them, their club’s set up seems inconsequential, boring. Mark doesn’t expect people to be impressed, although he dismisses the idea of having to aggrandize what they do. </p><p>He can’t help scoffing a little, in the quiet of the classroom. Donghyuk was right—he <i>is</i> a snob.</p><p>So when a bunch of raucous students arrive at their station, dressed in matching, obnoxious jerseys, Mark tunes out, already assuming they’d just pass by. He doesn’t expect for one of them to separate himself idly from the group, and meander to the first presentation board. </p><p>“Hmm.” His voice is vaguely amused as he contemplates the design with an air of nonchalance, and Mark can’t help but bristle.</p><p>“That’s a classic ladder capture,” Mark speaks up, but the perusing student doesn’t seem to notice his curtness. “If White plays correctly, it could result in—”</p><p>“<i>Double Atari</i>,” the student finishes pleasantly. </p><p>Mark shuts his jaw with a click, then wipes away his surprise as best as he can, his assessment of the student wavering. “You play?”</p><p>“Not since basketball,” the boy admits, a little sheepishly. </p><p>It’s odd for him to be so fickle, Mark thinks wryly, as his appraisal of the self-proclaimed jock plummets once more. “Of course,” he responds, and if he sounds a little snide, the student once again takes no offence. </p><p>“Still, a game once in a while would be nice.”</p><p>Mark blinks in disbelief as the boy settles himself on one of the chairs at a board. “You want to play?”</p><p>Smiley Jock shrugs easily, and if Mark weren’t already so exasperated, he might have read it to be friendly. “Why not?”</p><p>Why not indeed, Mark reasons, annoyed although unsure why. He’ll show Smiley Jock that the game is to be taken seriously, and if he has to win in the most brutal of manners to do so, then surely, even Sicheng can’t blame him. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>“I think that’s that,” Smiley Jock says lightly. “Good game.”</p><p>There’s a pregnant pause around them. Mark had expected the game to be over quick, but it’s been an hour since they started, enough time for the rest of the club members to gather back and watch with increasing awe as Smiley Jock captures all of his pieces. </p><p>“Yes,” Mark finally manages to bring himself to say, still squinting at the board in bewilderment. The game had passed by in a blur. He’d been pressured from the get-go, forced into residing in corners and taking tumultuous risks. “You won,” he adds, a little unnecessarily. </p><p>“Not easily,” Smiley Jock grins. “I have a feeling it would’ve gone a little differently if…”</p><p>“If?” Mark nearly snaps, but Smiley Jock’s smile never fades.</p><p>“If you’d taken this a little more seriously.” </p><p>Well. There really isn’t anything he can say in response to that. Thankfully, Donghyuk cuts in. “Incredible,” he says, clapping Smiley Jock on the shoulder. “Those were some clever moves.”</p><p>“We’d love to have you, if you’re interested,” Siching pipes up eagerly. “Our club could really benefit from your talent.”</p><p>“Oh, I wouldn’t know much about talent,” Smiley Jock demurs, and he sounds almost shy. “But,” his gaze alights on Mark, loaded with meaning, “I enjoyed our game today.”</p><p>“Then you’re welcome,” Mark says firmly, disregarding how Donghyuk’s mouth flaps open. Mark wants to roll his eyes; he’s not going to turn away a gifted player over some wounded pride. “Anyone who wants to play is welcome.”</p><p>Mark hadn’t thought it possible, but Smiley Jock’s smile grows even wider, eyes crinkled at the corners to accommodate the absolute positivity he’s beaming in Mark’s direction. It’s strangely disarming. The members crowd him excitedly, introducing themselves, and Mark watches as Smiley Jock flushes under all the attention. </p><p>“He got you good, huh,” Donghyuk says, irritatingly smug, and Mark has a sense he isn’t just referring to the match. Mark doesn’t want to think about the implication too hard; sometimes, it’s best to just ignore Donghyuk. </p><p>“Lucas,” Jisung reads from Smiley Jock’s jersey, and already, Mark can detect the admiration in his voice for the older student. “It’s Lucas, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Smiley Jock says affably, but once again, he looks to Mark, intent. “Though my friends call my Yukhei.”</p><p>The moment feels weighted, somehow, so Mark takes the invitation. “Yukhei,” he agrees, extending a hand. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Mark doesn’t expect Yukhei to show up, is betting against it with some fried chicken on the line actually, but it’s Tuesday four in the afternoon, and here he is in their classroom, waiting patiently for them to arrive. Donghyuk spots him and waves eagerly, and Yukhei responds by bounding up to them like a giant puppy. </p><p>“Good god,” Mark says, taking a step back in horror, because Donghyuk and Yukhei appear to be a match made in heaven already. </p><p>“Ignore our Captain here,” Donghyuk says by way of greeting, elbowing Mark rudely in the ribs. “He’s grumpy because he just lost a bet.”</p><p>Yukhei tips his head, amused. “Ah,” he says knowingly, which somehow makes owing Donghyuk fried chicken worse. </p><p>They have a pretty easy-going schedule, Mark usually goes through a formation from one of their guidebooks on the board, and the members take their turn critiquing it. Then they pair off, and circle through one another in matches. And the last bit of their time is spent bringing up interesting patterns they encountered from the day’s games, and whinging about the amount of schoolwork they have.</p><p>Mark’s eyes flick to Yukhei periodically—just making sure the new member’s doing okay, like a good Captain should—and finds him deep in thought against Sicheng. His next move will be crucial. <i>Tsumego</i>, or Life and Death. </p><p>“Keep staring and I just might beat you too, hyung,” Jisung pipes up, and Mark jerks back toward his own game. He scowls at his giggling opponent, and places his own piece down, but it comes as no surprise when Yukhei claims his game, fifteen minutes later.</p><p>“So it wasn’t just blind luck,” Donghyuk comments as they observe Yukhei’s and Sicheng’s board. Yukhei’s off to the side, getting pelted with questions by Jisung and Sicheng. <i>Hyung, you’re too cool</i>, Jisung proclaims, and Mark maybe wants to strangle him, that traitor. </p><p>“Of course not,” Mark admits quietly. “He’s. He’s good.”</p><p>Donghyuk’s eyebrows raise. “That looked like it took real effort for you to say.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“The competition coming up—”</p><p>“No,” Mark bites out, suddenly angry. “I’m not replacing either you or Sicheng just because he showed up for practice once.”</p><p>Donghyuk raises his hands, placating. “We’ll have a much better chance with him, all I’m saying. I don’t mind.” </p><p>“No,” Mark insists, and thankfully, Donghyuk leaves it at that.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you have basketball practice, or something,” Mark finally says, after Yukhei shows up for a whole month straight. He’s not being rude, not really. </p><p>“Why,” Yukhei gasps, clutching at his chest, “I’m hurt.” He doesn’t look offended at all. In fact, Yukhei’s somehow managed to dodge every snarky remark Mark keeps throwing his way, all with that trademark smile fixed on his face. “It’s almost as if you don’t want me here. Or something.”</p><p>“It’s not that,” Mark mumbles. He places a white stone in the left quadrant, trying to form a <i>geta</i>, or net. He has a feeling the trap won’t work on Yukhei. “I just don’t want the rest of the varsity team to swing by and haze us because we’re keeping their star player away from the court.” </p><p>Yukhei laughs, throwing his head all the way back. His tendons stretch out starkly against his neck, and Mark has to shake his gaze away. “This is my first year on the team, you know. I’m hardly a star player.”</p><p>Mark snorts, “I don’t believe that,” and watches as Yukhei ducks his head, pleased. </p><p>There’s silence for awhile, interrupted only by the clacking of pieces placed on the board. And then Yukhei says, “Mon, Wed, and Fri.”</p><p>Yukhei actually pronounces the days in short form, good lord, and Mark has to take a moment to process it. “Huh?” he says dumbly.</p><p>Yukhei shrugs. “That’s when I have basketball practice.”</p><p>“So—”</p><p>“So you guys meet up on Tues and Thurs, you don’t have to worry. Though I do appreciate you looking out for me.”</p><p>Yukhei says the last bit deep and sincere, and Mark flushes. He wants to point out that that having club activities all days of the week can’t really be healthy for an individual, but he’s too busy trying to cover his face with one hand, and slapping down a piece with the other to prevent Yukhei from playing a strategic ladder breaker.  </p><p>“Would you look at that,” Yukhei says, slightly puzzled, half an hour later. “I lost.”</p><p>“Huh,” Mark says again, equally puzzled. He can’t remember what plays he made. </p><p>“So you’re free tomorrow?”</p><p>“Huh?” Mark manages a third time. He apparently needs a dictionary to interact with Yukhei. A dictionary, and a road map. </p><p>“No <i>Go</i> on Fridays means you’re free tomorrow, right?”</p><p>Mark clears his throat. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows where this is going. “Maybe.”</p><p>“We’re playing a friendly tomorrow, against St. Catherine High.” Yukhei winks, “You should come watch.”</p><p>Mark wants to protest, make it exceedingly clear he has no interest in any game in which six-foot brutes compete for balls, but Donghyuk springs up next to him. “Hey, that’s a great idea! It’s not like Mark has anything to do anyway!”</p><p><i>You are dead to me</i>, Mark tries to convey in his glare, but Donghyuk ignores him, and Yukhei’s grin only grows wider.  </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>“This is very exciting,” Jisung all but squeals next to him. </p><p>“Remind me again why we’re all here,” Donghyuk says flatly to him, “when this was obviously supposed to be a date.”</p><p>“Because Mark’s a coward,” Sicheng says sadly.</p><p>Mark isn’t proud of the fact that he brought most of the <i>Go</i> club to a basketball game, and he’s regretting it even more now. “Whatever happened to supporting your Captain,” he wonders aloud, earning three identical eyerolls for his trouble. </p><p>It doesn’t take long for Mark to notice—he might be sorely lacking in his understanding of sports, but even he can tell—Yukhei’s scoring a lot. He’s fast on on his feet, and sure with his passes. Mark brings this up reluctantly to Donghyuk. </p><p>“But of course,” Donghyuk says primly. “Yukhei’s had a reputation prior to even joining the team. Their coach practically rolled out the red carpet for him at tryouts.”</p><p>Mark squints at him. “Why do you know this?”</p><p>“Why do you <i>not</i> know this?”</p><p>Mark scowls, because it’s a good question. He’s been seeing Yukhei outside of club nowadays, whenever Yukhei drops by his locker, which is increasingly often. They’re friendly, well, friend-<i>lier</i> now. They talk, mostly about <i>Go</i>, but still. He gets the feeling he should know more about Yukhei. “I asked you first.”</p><p>“I asked you second,” Donghyuk scoffs. “I can do this all day.”</p><p>“You’re a child.”</p><p>“You are both children,” Sicheng interrupts severely. “Yukhei just scored again.”</p><p>Their side of the benches is erupting in cheers, and Mark’s eyes flick back to the court. He spots Yukhei instantly, getting celebratory slaps on the back from all his teammates. And then weirdly, Yukhei picks him out in the crowd. </p><p>His entire body language straightens, and even from this distance, Mark can see a grin stretching out on his face. Yukhei waves eagerly at him, causing the rest of the basketball team to look their direction.</p><p>Mark waves back weakly.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Jisung says. </p><p>“Yeah,” Donghyuk and Sicheng both agree.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>“MVP, MVP, MVP!”</p><p>Mark watches their celebratory huddle from a distance warily, eyes widening as the team grabs Yukhei, flips him, and hoists him into the air within the span of two seconds. It looks painful. Jisung nearly breaks his voice cheering, and Mark congratulates himself on having never introduced the huddle to the <i>Go</i> club. </p><p>Yukhei looks happy, bouncing in the air. His cheeks are pink from the game, or the win, or both, and his eyes are crinkled up at the corners. It’s— </p><p>“Cute,” Donghyuk somehow supplies. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”</p><p>“Shut up,” Mark grouses. </p><p>They watch as Yukhei breaks off from the rest of them, still grinning from ear to ear, and makes his way over to the benches. </p><p>“Hyung,” Jisung exclaims, “you really are too cool!”</p><p>Yukhei laughs brightly, accepting hi-fives from each one of them. “Thanks for coming, all of you,” he says a little breathlessly, chest still heaving with exertion. “I hope you enjoyed the game.” He looks at Mark expectantly.</p><p>“We sure did,” Donghyuk says. “But I just remembered, I left my textbooks in the classroom. Sicheng, Jisung, come with me?”</p><p>Sicheng stands immediately, grabbing onto Jisung and steering him away, shushing him when he says, <i>But tomorrow’s Saturday why does Donghyuk hyung need textbooks</i>— </p><p>“Well?” Yukhei asks. He’s wearing a smaller smile now, shy and a little unsure around the edges. </p><p>“Well,” Mark begins. He feels even more out of breath than Yukhei is, even though he wasn’t the one who did multiple laps up and down the court at breakneck speed. “You certainly were lying about not being the star player.”</p><p>Yukhei blinks in surprise, before he ducks his head, chuckling a little. His hand finds the back of his neck, a move Mark has come to interpret as Yukhei being flustered. “So, you’re capable of saying nice things to me.”</p><p>Mark coughs, indignant, “Since when have I never.”</p><p>Yukhei winks at him. “Since day one, where you thought I was a total pleb.”</p><p>Mark rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing too. “All right, you got me. I didn’t take you seriously, and got my ass whooped.”</p><p>“And now?”</p><p>Mark blinks. “And now?”</p><p>“Are you finally taking me seriously?”</p><p>Mark flounders a little, mouth falling open. Yukhei’s watching him carefully, and his face falls when Mark doesn’t reply. Mark feels as if he’s just kicked a puppy.</p><p>“Ah, this must be the famous <i>Go</i> Captain.” Yukhei almost jumps as one of the other basketball players appears, and slings an arm around his shoulder. “Our Lucas here can’t stop talking about you.”</p><p>“Hyung,” Yukhei whines, covering his face with both hands. “You weren’t supposed to tell him that.” </p><p>“I’m Taeyong,” the newcomer says pleasantly, ignoring the embarrassed sounds Yukhei’s making, extending a hand for Mark to shake.</p><p>“Mark,” he says automatically, silently flabbergasted at the implication that Yukhei’s been bringing him up as a topic on a regular basis. To the entire basketball team. </p><p>“Oh, we know,” Taeyong smirks, causing Yukhei to groan once more. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Contrary to what Donghyuk thinks, Mark isn’t completely socially inept. He knows what a crush looks like. He also knows what a crush <i>feels</i> like. He’s just not sure why he’s being so hesitant about the entire thing. </p><p>He can’t even blame this on the typical high-school jock and nerd drama, straight out of Sicheng’s mangas.  Yukhei doesn’t have the slightest compunction in being completely blatant about his attraction. He’s not the least bit ashamed about being associated with the nerdiest club in existence. His basketball teammates seem nice, and they haven’t showed up to bully the so-called loser who happened to fall head-over-heels for their star player. </p><p>It’s all very uncomplicated. It’s just <i>sente</i>, and <i>gote</i>. Play, and respond. But Mark has enough games under his belt to know that a seemingly simple setup can morph into something treacherous within moments. </p><p>
  <i>will you stop comparing your love life to a game, for the love of god</i>
</p><p>Mark huffs at Donghyuk’s text. <i>Go away</i>, he types back for lack of nothing better to say.</p><p>
  <i>have you talked to Yukhei about the competition??</i>
</p><p>He sighs at the sudden change of topic. They’re a pretty new club, and they only have enough funds to send three members to the regional tournament held a five-hour bus ride away. They can barely cover lodging for a night, and that’s if they all squeeze into a room. By rights, it should be Donghyuk, Sicheng, and himself. That was the plan from the beginning.</p><p>
  <i>No.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>i’ve talked to Sicheng, he agrees with me. you should ask him</i>
</p><p><i>I’m already taking the two of you</i>, Mark argues stubbornly.</p><p><i>you’re the Captain</i>, Donghyuk reminds, and wow, that’s a low blow. <i>favouritism isn’t the way to go about this. you should be doing what’s best for the club</i></p><p>Mark seethes. He doesn’t reply for a minute.</p><p><i>look</i>, Donghyuk tries again. <i>sorry about that. it’s not as if this is our last chance to compete. if we do well this year, i’m sure we’ll be able to get more funding. then all four of us can go next year. maybe we could even do five. Jisung would love to come. just for the bus ride.</i></p><p>Mark cracks a smile despite himself. Jisung would. <i>Fine</i>, he relents. <i>I’ll ask him tomorrow.</i></p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Tuesday four in the afternoon, and this feels very familiar, except Mark’s waiting for Yukhei to arrive this time. He’s late, which is odd.</p><p>Four-thirty and he shows up, out of breath. He looks subdued somehow, and Mark doesn’t want to think too closely about why he’s able to tell. </p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters as he takes a seat opposite Mark.</p><p>“That’s fine,” Mark says, puzzled at his agitated composure. “You can have white.”</p><p>Yukhei places the first piece down mutely, fingers twitching by his side. They go through the opening sequence in silence, with Yukhei avoiding eye contact the entire time. </p><p>Mark clears his throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”</p><p>“Pre-season starts next week,” Yukhei interrupts. </p><p>Mark stops. “Okay?”</p><p>“We’ll have training four to five times a week now, so I won’t have much spare time.” He pauses. “I won’t be able to come as often.”</p><p>“I get it,” Mark says tightly. Here it is, this is the midgame <i>Ko</i> fight. </p><p>They continue, tension strung taut between them. Mark structures his pieces in aggressive formations, pressing Yukhei for an advantage. Yukhei doesn’t give.</p><p>“You don’t usually play like that,” Yukhei finally says, guardedly.</p><p>Mark wants to wound, and the words are out before he can stop them. “Maybe this is how I play when I take the game seriously.”</p><p>Yukhei flinches as if struck, but he rallies quickly, capturing a corner of the board with his piece. “Well unlike you,” he says, an edge to his tone, “I’ve been taking this seriously from the beginning.”</p><p>Mark grits his teeth, because he’s profoundly aware that accusation was unfair to begin with. But he can’t bring himself to take it back. The game rolls on disjointedly, awkward in the most combative phase. By the end of it all, Mark doesn’t have to count the pieces to know he’s lost. “Good game,” he says stiffly.</p><p>“Mark,” Yukhei pleads, and he sounds hurt. It makes Mark feel like a jerk. “Are you at least going to tell me what this is really about?”</p><p>There are a million things Mark wants to say, but he doesn’t have the capacity to parse through each of them now. So he shrugs, affecting nonchalance. “There was a tournament Donghyuk thought you might be interested in. I’ll tell him you’re too busy.”</p><p>He doesn’t wait for Yukhei’s response, and instead moves on to the next board.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>“Well now you’ve gone and done it,” Donghyuk says, when Yukhei fails to show up on Thursday. </p><p>Mark frowns. “Shouldn’t you be upset at him too?”</p><p>Donghyuk stares at him. “Why should I be,” he demands, and Mark almost flinches back. Donghyuk rarely sounds this angry. </p><p>“You fought for him for a place in regionals,” Mark protests, grasping at straws.</p><p>“Yeah, so?” Donghyuk shakes his head at him. “It would’ve been great if he could go. But he was under no obligation to. We welcomed him to the club because he wanted to play, remember? That was the only requirement. That he wanted to play.”</p><p>Mark falls silent. In truth, the guilt’s been gnawing at him ever since Tuesday’s meeting ended. Yukhei had fled the classroom instantly, and it’d been too late for him to make any amends. </p><p>“I was a dick,” he says quietly.</p><p>“You were,” Donghyuk agrees, disappointedly. </p><p>They finish up the rest of their game in relative silence. Mark loses. That’s all he’s been doing these days. Losing.</p><p>He clears the pieces, subdued. “I just thought.” The words don’t come to him easily. It’s been painful, trying to even determine why Yukhei’s absence feels like a betrayal. “I thought he was willing to commit.”</p><p>“Is that why you—” Donghyuk’s eyes are wide. “Mark, I told you already, stop comparing this to a damn game.”</p><p>Mark doesn’t quite comprehend. “What?”</p><p>“Figure this out yourself,” Donghyuk exhales, frustrated. “I can’t help you if you insist on being so dense.”</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>“Oh great,” the voice sounds relieved, “I managed to catch you.”</p><p>Mark stares as Taeyong rushes through the classroom door. He drops his bag and jacket in a heap by teacher’s table, and collapses into one of the chairs, puffing and panting. </p><p><i>This is it</i>, Mark thinks. The hazing he expected and rightly deserves. He isn’t so much afraid as he is resigned. The past two weeks have been abysmal. Mark hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Yukhei. </p><p>“Phew, gimme a minute,” Taeyong gasps out. “I ran all the way here.”</p><p>“Er,” Mark says. “Was there something urgent, hyung?”</p><p>“Well,” Taeyong says, after he’s caught his breath, “not so much urgent as it is something of… concern.”</p><p>“Right,” Mark says meekly, bracing himself to be chewed out by the basketball Captain. Yukhei’s probably told them all about the giant ass the <i>Go</i> nerd turned out to be. </p><p>“Thing is,” Taeyong begins slowly, “we’ve all noticed how Yukhei has been a little down as of late.”</p><p>“That’s probably on me,” Mark mumbles before he can stop himself.</p><p>“Now hold on, I'm not here to accuse you of anything,” Taeyong smiles. “Just to be clear, Yukhei hasn’t said much. But I figured, well, it's probably something to do with the club.” He pauses, scratching his nose awkwardly. “You’ll have to excuse us basketball nut-cases. Coach is a notorious drill sergeant when it comes to training for season. I’m sorry Yukhei hasn’t been able to come.”</p><p>Mark flounders, utterly blindsided, waving the apology away frantically. “That’s not your fault. Or Yukhei’s, for that matter.” He winces inwardly at how hypocritical he sounds, but he realizes that to be the truth. </p><p>Taeyong shrugs. “Still, Yukhei would take that upon himself. He’s committed to everything he does, one hundred percent. First in practice, last one out, that sort of thing.”</p><p>Mark nods. “I can see that.”</p><p>“He’s probably beating himself up for not being able to see this through. But you should understand, he’s committed to other things too,” Taeyong says meaningfully. Mark feels heat crawl up his neck. “He’ll make time for the important stuff in life, if you get my drift.”</p><p>“I get it,” Mark says miserably. Donghyuk had pretty much tried to tell him the exact same thing. This isn’t about a game. Life isn’t <i>Go</i>, in any sense. There’re no winners or losers. There’s never been two opposing sides. </p><p>Taeyong chuckles. “You know, I can see why he’s so taken with you.”</p><p>“But I was a complete idiot.”</p><p>“Birds of a feather,” Taeyong says with a twinkle in his eyes. “He’s a little slow on the uptake too.”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>Taeyong’s full out laughing right now. “Here’s some friendly advice. We end practice at seven tomorrow.”</p><p>Mark squints at him. That sounded vaguely like a threat. “That’s your <i>friendly</i> advice?”</p><p>“Well, usually I’d say something ominous like, take care of our dongsaeng or I’ll come knocking, but,” Taeyong winks, “I’ve got a feeling that won’t be necessary.”</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Mark sneaks in at six-fifty in the evening. It wouldn’t do to be late. He seats himself at far end of the bleachers, watching as the team goes through their cool-down set. Someone spots him, and waves. And the entire team turns to look in his direction, just like in the game. Someone lets out a very obvious bark of laughter. </p><p><i>Goddamnit, Taeyong</i>, Mark thinks, trying desperately to shrink into oblivion.</p><p>Their coach dismisses them, and Mark tries not to fidget. His chest is clenched tight with anxiousness. This feels hopelessly straight out of one of Sicheng’s mangas. Mark can only hope it's not one of those which end badly for the protagonist. <i>Wait</i>, he frowns. He may have been the antagonist in this one. </p><p>“Hi,” Yukhei says, blessedly interrupting his rapidly spiralling thoughts. He has one hand rubbing the back of his neck. </p><p>“Hi,” Mark says, somewhat assured that he isn’t the only nervous party in this conversation. He waits as the rest of the players file noisily out the double doors, doesn’t look to see what kind of expression Taeyong’s throwing his way. </p><p>“Hyung’s waggling his eyebrows at you,” Yukhei says, bemused. </p><p>“I’m ignoring him,” Mark mutters. </p><p>“Well, he’s gone now.”</p><p>Mark takes a breath. “I’m sorry,” he says. He gazes at Yukhei, notes the dark circles under his eyes. Mark drops his head, ashamed. “I was petty and mean. I was unfair to you. Yukhei, I’m sorry.”</p><p>Yukhei sighs. He flops down on the bleacher next to him, bumping their shoulders together. Mark takes that as a good sign to continue. “I equated your commitment to the club to your commitment to me. I was wrong, wasn’t I?”</p><p>Yukhei nods, and Mark dares to reach for his hand. Yukhei allows it. “I’d like to try this again, if you don’t mind.” He squeezes Yukhei's hand. "Please?"</p><p>Yukhei turns to him. A small smile curves his lips. It feels like <i>seki</i>, like mutual life. It feels like forgiveness. “You’re serious now, huh?”</p><p>“As serious as I could ever be,” Mark confirms. “What do basketball players like to do on dates? Help me out here.”</p><p>“Well, you're a little hopeless in this department," and there's the trademark grin. Mark's pulse jumps a beat. "But here's a clue. If you take me to a <i>Go</i> training session, I’m walking out.”</p><p>Mark leans forward, kisses Yukhei softly, watches as the flush rises to Yukhei’s cheeks. The tension in his chest eases to warmth. He likes where this endgame is going. “I’ll think of something else,” he promises.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>1. Look at me, pretending to know anything about the world's most complicated game lol.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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